


r̴eality̸͘͜~

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mystery, Surrealism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23261866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Malcolm woke on a Sunday. The rest? Well, interesting you might ask…
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	r̴eality̸͘͜~

He woke on a Sunday.

Chill came through the window, the insulation not as good as it once was, and mixed with sweat left behind on his neck. Feet hit the wood floor, equally cold. Carried him to the bathroom, the water cool on his hands and tongue. Stepped into the shower, the drops up as warm as he could get.

He's naked. Walking through his loft, no particular place to be. Exposing his problems to a world of one, pacing through his yoga routine. Taking his pills with still water, the crisp liquid uncomfortable in his throat. Skipping breakfast when his stomach got queasy just thinking about it.

His phone buzzed, reminding him he had somewhere to be, and he disappeared.

* * *

He woke on December 10, 2020.

The air was cold - maybe he should have grabbed a second blanket. His feet gripped the floor, padding to _You’ve Got a Friend_ on the way to the bathroom. He peed and washed his hands, scrubbing until the chill froze his fingertips. Brushed his teeth, the bristles rough on all surfaces, the rinse a shock into the morning. Washed in the shower, the raindrops scalding his skin.

He bared his soul to his loft, singing along with the stereo until he started his yoga routine. Contorted on the mat, pressing his hips into the ground, pushing his ass into the air. Took his pills, tossing them like candy, the liquid chaser a bitterly cold addition. Bypassed breakfast when he could already taste the stomach acid in his mouth.

His phone vibrated and he threw on his coat while running out the door.

* * *

He woke to the sun.

He was fairly certain Antarctica had come to visit overnight. There might even be penguins in his living room. His feet tapped to the bathroom, a hearty click against the wood floor. The faucet spilled water onto his hands, into his mouth after brushing his teeth. It kept filling, almost overflowing the bowl before he killed the spigot. The shower warmed his soul, bringing him back to the present.

Clothes were overrated. Vestiges of a time one couldn't be confident in their own skin. Dammit to hell - he'd stick to the buff. Balls got in the way doing any yoga pose he tried, and he finally said, “Fuck it.” He skipped his pills, deciding fuck them too. Threw up his anger with the bit of acid toiling in his stomach.

His phone shaking on the counter scared the crap out of him and he bolted out the door.

* * *

He woke to light.

The beams were hot on his neck, leaving behind a sweat he longed to remove. His feet stuck to the floor on the way to the bathroom, a fog ring forming around them while he washed his hands and brushed his teeth. The shower spewed icicles, freezing every last inch of his body to the core.

He’s exposed. Sunshine stared at him from the corner through each typical yoga pose, cackled at him when he turned into a corpse. His pills fell between his fingers, scattering like rice at the gleeful wedding he’ll never have. Turned into doves, hurtling themselves at the window, sliding motionless down the pane of glass. His breakfast spilled too, a spectacular eruption across the kitchen floor, swimming toward the living room, eating everything in its path.

He grabbed his phone from the counter and chucked it at the wall. It's a toss-up what shattered.

* * *

He woke to a lamp.

Hanging over into his face, the bulbs never turned off the night before. He clicked it off, wishing he could shut off everything in his head just as easily. Every hair on his body tingled in shivers on the trek to the bathroom, so he jumped straight in the shower, brushing his teeth at the same time while he rose to a temperature above freezing his ass off.

Only the walls knew what he looked like as of late. Wrapped him up in suffocating arms that scattered his bits throughout his loft. There was a whole barnyard of cat to cow to pigeon, yet they ignored him. Left their pellet feed to him to swallow with his breakfast he pushed aside. They had plenty of other things to nibble on.

He stared at the foreign sound of his phone reverberating through the counter.

* * *

He woke to fire.

“Hello, my boy,” chased him to the bathroom, narrowly avoiding wetting himself. His tears burned his skin, reminding him he needed to be stronger, to stand up to him. He reached for the telephone and water came shooting out, drenching him in the shower.

He stepped on his back through a plank, on his ankles through downward-facing dog. Filled his space with duplicitous words that drowned out all the oxygen. Pills? Unneeded. “You’ll be fine, my boy - just listen to me.” Sparkling poison poured into his mouth, foamed back out trickling on the icy floor.

His phone thrust daggers from the counter.

* * *

He woke to brightness.

Stepped down one stair and kissed the floor. Cold, hot, not a bit of him knew what he was doing. Routine became confusion whirling away in the washing machine. All the things he should or shouldn’t do competed with his space to breathe.

Gil dragged him to the shower. Stripped him down ’til he shook and stuck him in the drink ’til he thawed. Got him to take his pills, yet stammered at any food. Held him through teeter and sway when strength was nonexistent, soothing his neck when water wouldn’t.

Too many unanswered calls, and he’d appeared just as shaken as the phone on the counter.

* * *

He woke to a candle with both ends burning feverishly to the middle.

Fuck - what was real? Sundays and showers and pills. Enough pills to keep him chilled for the rest of all time. A bird who needed care when he was falling apart himself. Where was Gil? He needed Gil.

He picked up his phone from the counter.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
